1203 1 1
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*Must have excellent communication skills and be able to talk pretty good.
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120333
|
The shit just doesn't want to come off.
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120352
|
|
120300
|
author's note: the borgs in this story have been programmed to think of themselves as IT and in speech refer to selves as YOU* Though IT too had ball and socket joints, the Borg could not sit down to face ITs inquisitor. While IT felt the need to clean up the fallen…
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1203124
|
It will always be this way/ won’t it, she said.
Me insecure, you unfaithful
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120381
|
So many opportunities for mud
can be found in these hills,
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120311
|
Wherever you decide to grow
Please remember to ask the dirt
‘Am I still dust’
|
1203910
|
So where does that leave me, Roscoe Loomis wondered, dismounting his silver, aluminum steed in his sweat-soaked, spandex outfit, and, clearing the saliva from his beard he walked over, checked and smiled, learning that the bike track's timing unit showed it was Roscoe's…
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120366
|
The four Grannies say, “GO!” and leap from the window. King's pickup is below, and he has lined the bed with his mother's throw pillows. Sundresses fly. Blue plastic diapers billow. They want cigarettes. I light their smokes with King's pearl-handled lighter as…
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120395
|
We got a sandwich at Mr. Pickle's, but they cut the sandwich in the plastic. Plastic wrap.
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120311
|
“You need to keep a close vigil on your X-Ray binaries from the Sun. The star and its blazing temperature could spill over at its outer-most edges. The material would be such a high temperature; it would destroy all life on your planet, and…
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120344
|
He'd sit or stand, as if this was common
to see: in the street walking by, such a man.
|
120354
|
before your full lips touch
mine.
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120300
|
Ivy Oppel was one hard cousin to cry for. And a hard woman, too, but Ooops! Kapow! There's a hole in her head. Not hard enough, then.
I'm harder, thought Dumasha. A girl with a gun can have some fun in this world.
|
120300
|
Ever since they switched from paper scripts to the little rubber balls branded with code I have been inundated with sickness.
|
120300
|
Cooking dinner for one in a city that isn’t my home. A beautiful city that I’m slowly losing interest in, just as I become a local. In a tiny apartment set in the most realistic part of town, I’ve turned the music up loud to drown out my thoughts.
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120253
|
I arrange 15 restatements of how lovely you are forward then backward, horizontally then vertically then along the diagonals.
|
120221
|
The park is filled with tents, tarps, and supporting structures, along with hundreds of diverse individuals seeking a common focus, wanting to make a difference, expressing an abundance of opinion, verbally and with signs.
|
120200
|
Mayumi stepped back and watched the hand slowly slide along, guiding her to follow it. Her head turned until she saw Emi across from her.
|
12022015
|
|
1202117
|
She had just done it in the backseat with the man she decided would be her father. Or maybe it was the cast of his eyes under the dim bar lights. Maybe she insisted that this had to be done, to relive the night under the stars, under a dented roof of a station…
|
120250
|
|
120253
|
This mother, she buys a one way ticket
whenever she visits her three daughters
who have wandered far from the eyes of
her pearlescent knitting needles and tutti-frutti yarns.
|
120286
|
At some point we all reach the end point/
of something. Something important/
if only to our fragile self esteem.
|
120231
|
Alcohol and American writers have always had a connection–about 70 percent of American winners of the Nobel Prize for Literature could be considered heavy drinkers if not more.
|
120242
|
who can quite say/when careless talk & confidence/slips into that other charged thing/so minimal at first
|
120287
|
He invited her in for a Martini and she graciously accepted.
|
120262
|
All I wanted to do was lay in his smell, I had missed him and didn’t know it before now. He got up to urinate at one point and his absence was obscene to me.
|
120244
|
I am the Poet Laureate of my bedroom
I am the Poet Laureate of 6065 Chabot Road, Jokeland
I am the Poet Laureate of the Loser Café
I have wind in my shoes if not my hair
I am the Poet Laureate of Karmic Impulses
Of tabloids and gossip
I am
|
120253
|
Mother saw and swung. It was a talented slap. The kind which left white welts and then dissolved to venom in your veins. The inside of your cheek puckered and bloated.
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